


The Mad Tale of the Hatter

by MamoruSanSan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-25 20:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4975465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamoruSanSan/pseuds/MamoruSanSan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of Jefferson, who would become the Mad Hatter. We will see how he became in possession of a magical hat, as well as how he became entwined with Rumplestiltskin. All he wanted was to escape from his mundane childhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hats Off to Adventure!

**Author's Note:**

> This work was uploaded once before, but I wished to edit it, so it came down. Chapter 1 is back up!

Growing up in the Enchanted Forest, Jefferson never spent more than a week in the same place. His people were a nomadic tribe of merchants traveling from one end of the land to the other. They sold their expertly hand made products in various villages in exchange for gold and food. Every night, they would pitch their tents on the outskirts of the town they had come across. Huddled around their fires, they would divide their profit of that day between the various contributing members of the tribe.  Even the children in the tribe were expected to contribute to their profits, learning the craft of their parents and selling what they could. As a child, Jefferson only received pennies for his crudely constructed caps, but he cherished every bit he received. He looked up to his parents, their hat making skills having no equal in the land. Their success with the high society had left them well enough off to settle down if they wanted to, but love for their family and friends kept them uprooting and moving every week. 

Jefferson was at his most relaxed when he was sitting at his parents feet every night, pins in his latest pauper’s cap. He could show off his developing skills to his mother (who was usually bent over her next creation, a top hat or a even a bowler) for praise; and have his father (who was usually calculating the amount received that day before reaching for his next project) teach him a new technique to create a new type of cap. And all the while, they would listen to the stories he would tell; those he had heard from the children in the latest town or those he would make up on his own.

But no one else in his tribe cared for his vibrant stories of worlds where animals could talk, or where people could fly on a whim. They told him to keep his head down and keep polishing his talents, for a child who could not learn to earn an honest living did not belong in their merchant circle. He learned to keep these stories to his parents only, for they were the only ones to appreciate his love for the strange and mysterious out in the world. When he would finish with his day’s work, he explored the village and the surrounding forests or plains, imagining his own adventures, fighting dragons and saving princesses.

As he grew older, his imagination never wavered; it moved on from possible adventures he could have in this land, and on to adventures he could have in different lands. Countless years of listening to adults share tales of realm jumpers and magical transportation artifacts solidified his conviction that there was much more that he could be doing than just traveling around the vast land of the Enchanted Forest. By the time he was 19, he was determined to leave. His father had died four years past when his shakes and dizziness grew so bad that he lost control of his motor skills and fell right in front of a moving horse and carriage. The horse’s hooves mercilessly tenderized him for the jagged carriage wheels and he perished instantly. When his mother’s hands began to show the same symptoms his father had in the beginning, small tremors which kept her from making more than two or three hats a night, and Jefferson knew that she would follow the same fate as his father. He was determined to stay with his mother until she died before pursuing his dreams of adventure.

It wasn't until 21 when he found his mother sleeping peacefully in her bed, her tremors completely stopped, did he realize that he would finally be free to find his own path in life. After an appropriate mourning period for his beloved mother, he packed up what little belongings he had: the clothes he wore, the hat he received from his father before his death, his precious family gold, and the tools of his trade and left the tribe for good, leaving the tent for another generation of merchants who may have need for it.

He found a new place to settle, continuing to do what he had been taught his whole life: sew and sell hats. His skill had definitely grown since he was a child, and thanks to his parents’ education, he had a popular customer base. The rich and the poor would come to him for head coverings of all shapes and sizes; the better endowed shelling out a silver piece for his finest creations, and the paupers trading him roosters for dinner for something to keep their head dry in the rainy seasons. 

But he was not happy. He had merely traded his life in a tent for the same life in a cozy hut in a forest. Every morning, he would work outside while customers would find their way down the path past his house between the villages of Aroc and Harplaice. Every morning he would tell himself that this day would be different, that he would finally find his adventure. But every morning, he sold his hats to the customers who came to him, no difference in life anywhere. It wasn’t until he was visited by a witch three years into his new life that his story started.

Just as usual, when the first dew drops of the morning were beginning to form on the flora in the forest, he settled himself outside on his working bench and breathed in the crisp air. With his signature felt hat on his head, the same one from his father which he was never without, he would set up his latest wares to sell and absentmindedly work on a new cap. By the time the sun was high in the sky and bearing down on the forest floor, he had sold half his stock- a top hat to a royal traveling the peasant roads wishing for a new accessory to match his cloak, a newsboy cap to a street urchin who had saved up 20 pennies to buy a hat for his little sister who had recently lost her hair to a disease (who he sold it to for only 10 pennies, out of pity), and a derby hat to a butcher with a thick mustache from Aroc who wished to sell himself as a more high end merchant to the rich in his town. 

As he was thinking of packing up for lunch, he found himself with another visitor: an old woman hunched over almost at a 90 degree angle, her knobbly hands on a gnarled wooden cane, her grey hair a mass of frizz on her head, her eyes unnoticeable in all the wrinkles and folds on her face. Her appearance first stunned Jefferson, both in her sudden arrival, and her grotesque looks. But, since all customers deserved to be given the best treatment, regardless of stature, gender, or appearance, he gave the best smile he could.

“Good afternoon, my good lady. Are you interested in my wares?” he asked, gingerly setting down the hat he was currently working on. She ignored him and moved around his table, settling herself down on his bench with a loud groan. Jefferson blinked, taking in this action. It seemed rude to him for her to invade his space like this, but he reminded himself she was an old lady and he had no right to deny her a place to rest her legs. “Ma’am?”

“I have no need for a hat,” the lady barked. She squinted at him through her wrinkles. “It is your skills that I have need of, Hatter.”

“I don’t under-“ Jefferson, started. He was interrupted by a loud sneeze from the old lady, her open mouth spraying spit onto his table. Disgusted, Jefferson inched away slightly, shifting his remaining hats away even further from the now wet side of the wooden table. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and sniffed her nose loudly.

“Your work has gained much attention in this land. What you don’t realize is that you have the potential to be so much more, young man. Your hats, though simple, have helped out many a person to gain self confidence in their appearance, to stand out at a royal ball, or even to warm themselves on a cold night.”

She paused to have a small coughing fit, her frail hand barely covering her wide open mouth, more spit flying everywhere. Jefferson offered out his handkerchief from his pocket, only for her to shake her head at him, still coughing.

“As you can see, boy, I am sick.” the old lady said, after a moment to catch her breath. “This is why I have come to you. Recently, My apprentice brought me a hat of yours and immediately I could feel the magic woven into the felt. And I can also feel in you the magic to create these wonders which can bring out the best in others. 

“And so I have appeared before you to help me. My own brand of magic is not keeping me from dying. I have learned of a certain fountain that exists in a distant land. This fountain could keep a person from dying, and I wish to ask for your help to take me there.”

Jefferson stared, slack-jawed. If he understood one thing, it was that this would be his chance to leave and explore the world. All caution he should have had at a stranger proposing to him a trip to a different realm was gone. He was a giddy child once more, excited at the prospect of adventure. Instantly, he jumped for it, without thinking of any possible consequences. 

“What do I have to do?” He swallowed, trying to contain his excitement. A voice in the back of his head was tugging at him to be wary, but he shook it out of his mind. The old lady smiled a crinkly smile, showing her few and far between teeth. Pushing herself off the table and standing up from the bench, she waved her hand in his general direction which caused his hat to float off of his head and onto her palm. Jefferson’s heart leapt into his throat. That was his precious hat, what would she do to it? She placed the hat brim side up on the forest floor, her wiry grin still plastered on her face.

“These,” she croaked, pulling a small bag from thin air, “are magic beans.” She dumped the contents out into the palm of her right hand. About ten small clear beans like glass shimmered and Jefferson found himself enchanted by their beauty. The old witch (for it was clear to Jefferson with her abilities that she could be nothing other than such) continued, after pausing to cough once more. “These have the magic properties of transporting the user to wherever they desire. These are the last of the magic beans in this world, and I gift one to you, Hatter.” She returned all but one to the bag and magicked it away. With a crackly chuckle, she crushed the bean in her hand and proceeded to sprinkle it into his hat. Waving her hands once more, the hat begun to spin rapidly, growing larger and larger, a purple vortex opening within it. She reached her hand out to Jefferson and he paused, looking at the offer. His mind whirled, as a thought invaded his mind to take advantage of this situation. Knowing she was a witch, he knew he ran the risk of being transformed into a toad, or some other slimy little creature, but he decided to take a chance. 

“My good lady, before we start, can… um… may I ask a favor?” he asked, shakily. She lowered her hand and frowned slightly, and Jefferson took that as a cue to continue. “I know that taking advantage of your situation is unbecoming of a proper gentleman, yet I wish to see more than one adventure. If I am to help you, I would like to have the ability to see more realms, more worlds. If I were to help you regain your health, could I have… more of those magic beans?”

“My dear Hatter,” the witch cackled. “When we succeed with this trip, I will return this hat to you and grant you all my magic beans. It is the least I can do for you saving my poor wretched life.” She offered one gnarled hand to Jefferson which he took without another thought, only to be wrenched forward, their faces uncomfortably close. She raised her other hand, the pointer finger waggling a hair’s breadth from the tip of his nose. Her rancid breath made him reel back, but her grip was too tight. “Remember. This bean resonates with your heart. You need to think of where we are going. Say it in your head: Bemini. And repeat it over and over. 

Jefferson tried his hardest to do as the witch said, yet his heart and mind could only think of one word as they jumped into the swirling vortex.

_Everywhere._


	2. Tip Your Hat to Life

They jumped into the portal of the hat and landed into a large circular room with many doorways. Jefferson immediately looked up. He could still see the forest trees in a wide opening in the ceiling, but could not see a way out. He glanced at the witch out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he should be worried for not having done what she had demanded. Her face hardened and she released her grip from his hand. She turned around once in the room, snarling.

“What is this?” she growled, looking at the many doorways that lead nowhere. “We should have arrived in the Land of Pirates.” She turned to glare at Jefferson. “What did you do?” He stepped back, drawing himself away from the angry witch. Before she could take a step towards him, he noticed one of the doorways behind her glowing brightly. He pointed, wordlessly (for no sound could come out due to fear), and the witch turned, her focus on the door that manifested itself on the wall. A reddish door with a carving of a massive ship tossing on the seas appeared before them. The two inched closer to it, the crooked smile back on the witch’s face. She reached for the doorknob and turned it. The door opened without a sound, revealing a vast sandy beach.

Jefferson and the witch stepped through the doorway, and immediately, Jefferson could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He was standing in a whole different land for the first time, and the exhilaration he felt was more than anything he had ever felt. He had been on a few beaches in his childhood with his nomadic family, but this, this felt much more fulfilling. It took all he could to not kick off his shoes and frolic as he had done as a child.

“I am not sure why the hat sent us to a room,” the witch was muttering, looking back at the door which had closed behind them. It was blended into the forest, as though it had always been there. Jefferson inspected it. If he did not know it was there, he was sure to have never found it. He glanced back at the witch who had drawn herself more further along the beach. “But no matter, we are here now. The scene looks just as it does in my tome. Bemini is a group of islands in a land called Caribbean, and one of these islands is where we will find the Fountain of Youth.”

“Fountain of Youth?” Jefferson snapped out of his daydream of lounging in the sun to give his attention to the witch. “That is the name of the place we are seeking?” Without acknowledging him, the witch carried on.

“The magic in this world is of a different kind from our world, and I feel mine being tested,” she started muttering again. “We will have to search for the fountain on foot, I do not think I will be able to transport us there.” She gave Jefferson a sharp and steely eyed look, one that didn’t seem to match her appearance. “A warning. This land is inhabited by individuals who practice their own brand of magic, using skills even I may have never dealt with before. And on top of that, the water here is wrought with pirates who have no regard for our lives. Every moment we dally here, our lives are in danger. We must find that fountain, and fast.”

Their trek started through the forest dodging tree branches and pesky mosquitos that had decided that they had taken a liking to Jefferson’s blood. He was completely at the mercy of both the pests and the witch who led him. She seemed to have an inkling as to where they were going, only pausing to grumble and look around every once in a while. Soon, as Jefferson’s feet began to ache from walking consistently, the witch stopped and looked up, pointing at a cliff that blocked their way.

“Look!” she said, her voice also losing strength from walking in the dense forest nonstop. Jefferson followed the finger she pointed with to a strange crack in the cliff side, which looked like a long s shape with a twice as long horizontal line through it. The witch emitted what seemed to pass for a gleeful hoot, as she clamored towards the cliff.

Jefferson found himself wandering more and more about this adventure he was on, as he followed the witch. What was her purpose for bring him of all people to the Fountain of Youth? Living forever would be such a great gift to have, to be able to travel wherever he pleased, but he felt it wouldn’t be as simple as that. She had said she needed his skills. His skill was making a hat. If she had found use of his hat to travel here, then what other use did he have from this point on?

Jefferson kept his eyes up at the mark on the cliff as they made their way closer. He almost missed the witch dropping down into a crevice on the side of the cliff. Clamoring in after her, he dropped down onto the floor, which seemed to narrow into a tunnel on one side. It looked like light was coming from the other end, so the two odd travelers made their way to what seemed like their goal.

They gasped as they entered the cave. The dense forest outside in no way prepared them for the moss covered, wet and shiny rocks that littered the cave. Here and there were old skeletons, surrounding the large rock island in the middle of the flowing spring water.

“No!” The old lady crowed, upon seeing the rubble on the huge rock. The Fountain had seemed to have been crushed by some unknown force at some unknown time. The witch frantically looked around the rocks, hoping to find even a small drip of the fountain’s water. Triumphantly, she cried out when she saw small droplets coming between two crevasses in the fixture in the middle. She glanced around the cave.

“There should be two grails around here, boy. Find them for me.”

Jefferson glanced around in the water, wading through it with caution. As he came across one particularly fresh looking skeleton, some dried skin still hanging off the bones, he found two glittering cups in the water. Trying to avoid touching or even looking at the ex-human, he fished the bejeweled grails out of the water and brought them back to the witch.

“Why do we need two of them?” he asked, as she took them from his hands. She placed them under what was left of the fountain to catch the drips.

“Because you are going to drink too, of course. The Fountain only works if two drink from it at the same time.” she answered, not turning to look at him. She fished something out of her many pockets yet again, a small vial, and emptied the contents into one of the cups. Jefferson raised an eyebrow.

“And what is that?” The witch waved his question away.

“Nothing to concern you about, just my daily medicine.” she said, as she handed Jefferson the grail that had been untouched. His stomach started to churn. Something had started to nudge him since they had found the cliff that there was something not quite right, and standing in the cave had mad the feeling even more strong. Why were there so many skeletons in the cave, when the exit was not that difficult to find? There weren’t enough to show a large battle of some kind, but not few enough to think it might be weary travelers who had found their way in and died before they could find their way out. And the bones were cleaned completely off. Did they die of natural causes? Wouldn’t there be more flesh attached to the bones, if that was the case?

“Wait.” Jefferson said, placing the chalice on the stone table that had once held the fountain. The witch froze from lifting the goblet up to her lips and lowered it to the table as well. “Why will it only work with two people? Shouldn’t anybody who drink from it gain eternal youth?”

“I don’t make the rules, Hatter.” the old woman said, grumpily. She grabbed for the cup again.

“Wait!” he said again, a bit more urgently. His heart was now racing. Now it seemed that everything in his mind was telling him something was wrong. “What about the state of this fountain? Why has it been broken down like this?” he asked, gesturing towards the ruins around them. The witch turned to look at the scenery laid before them.

Shuuf.

"According to my tome, the fountain was seen as an abomination, and many groups were bent on destroying it. I hadn't read that any had succeeded, but it seems that based on the decay of the human skeletons here, it was quite recent.” the old lady said, sighing and turning back to Jefferson. "We were lucky that the chalices were still here. Now drink up, Hatter.” She picked up her cup and he picked up his. Together they raised it to their mouths and swigged the liquid down their throats, sealing their fate. The witch let out a cackle.

“One with a mermaid’s tear, and one without. Your usefulness has run its course!” she pointed a gnarled finger at him. “The rest of your years is mine, now. See how the water comes to claim your body!” she said, triumphantly.

Jefferson stumbled as he felt the rumbling in the cave. The water around them surged and coursed through the air, trying to find its mark. To the witch’s astonishment, in one fell swoop, it gobbled her up. Her screams were muffled in the vortex of water, and Jefferson could only stand and watch wide eyed as the whirlpool spun faster and faster, tearing the skin and flesh off her bones. Her bony hand was reaching for him through the swirls, and he could only turn away and run towards the exit, fear ingrained deep into his body.

After what felt like more than an hour of running, he stumbled onto the beaches he had first arrived at, his clothes even more torn and his face even more dirty than his journey through the forest the first time. It was still quite a devastating shock what had happened, the witch’s screams still resonating in his ears as the Fountain devoured her. Even when his gut had told him something was wrong and he was able to distract her for a second to switch the two chalices, he did not think her death would have been so gruesome. The image of her flesh and organs being stripped from her skeleton in a vortex of water would be burned in his mind forever, he knew. It was all he could do to scramble back to the beginning so he could crawl through the door and get home to his comfortable cot. He had always wanted to see a different world, but getting himself naively into a situation that would have cost his life was enough for him to start thinking clearly about what kind of adventures he should have. If they would all be like this, he would definitely take his hatter life over any of it. He finally reached the hidden door entangled in the branches of the woods, and with a shaky deep breath, he gripped the doorknob and turned it to go home.

It wouldn’t open.

His heart stopping for an instant, he tugged harder. The door stayed shut, mocking him in his growing panic. He banged on the door and shouted, but to no avail, for there was no one on the other side to hear him. He could hear the pounding in his ears as the realization hit him that he was stranded on an island in a land he knew nothing about. His breathing became erratic as he grabbed at his hair and started to feel numb. He closed his eyes, nauseous and unable to believe the situation he was in. He had followed a stranger to his doom, and he had no one to blame but himself. He was a complete imbecile for doing this all for the sake of adventure. All for the promise of seeing many more worlds, the promise of those magic beans.

His eyes popped open at that thought. The beans. In his fear, he had dashed out of the cave at breakneck speed that he didn't even think about the beans that the witch had. Would it be worth making the trek back to the cave? Her flesh and clothes had been completely ripped off, would her possessions have made it? Determined, he faced the forest again to head back to the cave. The least he could do was try. No harm would come with him trying to find another way out.

It was easier the second time through the forest. He could follow the trail of broken branches that they had caused the first time. Once, a brightly colored bird took off from a tree nearby causing his already elevated heart rate to jump up. He had to wait until he could feel that he wasn’t trembling to continue. He arrived at the cave and staggered to a halt, fearful of what he would see once he went back inside. The witch is dead, he told himself, her skeleton was picked clean. Nothing in there will harm you.

He climbed down into the crevice again and followed the path to the great open area with the fountain. Retracing his steps, he found his way to the skeleton that most recently joined the ranks of the dead. As he thought, there was no clothes left, no scraps of any kind of fabric or bag that could have held the beans. He kicked over a few stones in desperation. 

Feeling absolutely defeated, he sat down on a giant slab of stone in the center of the room, head in his hands. He was going to die on an island all alone, away from everything he had ever known. The thought of it caused him to chuckle. Then the chuckle grew louder. Soon he had knocked back his head and he was laughing hysterically in the cave. His voice bounced off the walls and echoed down the cavern.

It was quite sometime before he could calm himself. Perhaps something had snapped inside him, he wasn’t afraid anymore. If death would come for him, he would fight for life. As he started to collect himself, he noticed a glinting of white under a rubble of small rocks near the witch’s skeleton. Drawn to the light, he crouched down near it and swept the rubble away. He stared dumbfounded as he saw what he recognized to be one of her magic beans.

He could have kissed it. He picked it up and squinted at it in the dim lighting of the cave. It had survived the water tornado. Since it was a magical item, perhaps that was why it had been unscathed. If this one made it, then perhaps the others did as well. Jefferson quickly went to searching under the other rubble around her corpse. Soon he had uncovered three more and his spirits were starting to rise. He could go home. Holding all four in the palm of his hand, he relished how he would feel when he could finally go home. He dropped one on the ground of the cave, thinking of his little stone cottage in the forest. 

But nothing happened. The bean just shined on, not having been activated by his longing to go home. In desperation, Jefferson threw the other beans on the ground.

“HOME! HOME! HOME! HOME! HOME!” he shouted, at the cave, the beans, himself, whatever he could think to yell at. His panic had grown tenfold since finding the door locked. This just made it transform into a full blown anxiety attack, his palms sweaty and his body trembling. His wide eyes scanned the cave floor at the bunch of beans that had been scattered around him. His thoughts turned to the witch laying dead beside him. Perhaps she never intended on going back. He knew at least she intended for him to die. And he was now stuck on the island of Bemini forever, alone until someone or something unsavory found him. All the air leaving him at once, Jefferson fainted onto the cold, hard, stone ground, his body and mind not being able to take the amount of distress that he felt from his fate.


End file.
